Poem: Blessed Curse

 

The Russians say

Every time you look into the mirror

you lose a month of your life

 

Friends say

Capture a second a day with a camera lens to

 contain the change

 

mother says

you look fine, her eyes like green marbles

so to the looking glass, I go pray

 

car, planes, trains

passers-by check their lipstick

and pull on their durag.

Check the rare view mirror.

 

Shop windows, kissed by the noses of children

Foggied up by want of the new train set.

 

Glass holds itself holy

We can finally fall in love with ourselves!

But the black screen of a mobile

Makes us think of all our physical debts.

 

Icons and figures, made in the image of God

 Would Mary weep in front of glass?

An image she thinks has gone to rot?